I used to plan our getaways
A weekend with my husband
Reconnecting, just a guy and a girl
No children tugging on the frayed edges.
I used to create my own getaways
The fifteen minutes of quiet after dinner
When I told them I needed to use the bathroom
But really I sat on the closed toilet lid and read my book.
I used to need these getaways
Forty-eight hours of girlfriend time
Spa, food, shopping
So much laughter.
Escape from everyday life
And the constant state of being ON
As a stay-at-home mom
They were temporary reprieves.
I still love my getaways
But I don’t need to get away
From my teenagers, almost young adults
Not yet
Well, sometimes I do, but only for a little while
And not in the desperate way of a young mother
Who hid in the bathroom
For fifteen minutes of quiet.
I wrote this piece in 2016, as part of a writing course led by Jena Swartz. The prompt was “Getaway,” but this week’s Finish the Sentence Friday prompt is “laughter.” When I searched my notes for that word, I rediscovered this poem. Thank you Kristi and Kenya for helping me find it!
You captured the changes in the seasons of life so vividly, Dana! Lol at stealing away to the bathroom for some reading time.
A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do!
I’ve been thinking that it’s time to plan a weekend getaway 🙂
Go for it!
Lovely!
Thanks Liz!
Love your poem. What mother doesn’t enjoy the sacred “reading room” as a place to get away from the din of small children playing. Love your book list too.
Thank you Pat!
Jena lives near me and was at a Regina Spektor concert I was at, so when I look at our mutual friends on Facebook, it’s a wonderful mix of writing friends and local friends, and local, writing friends.
Blows my mind!
I’m so glad you revisited this.
Me too, Tamara.
Lovely, and I can SO relate. Although, did yours knock on the bathroom door? Mine did. Now, the teens hide from me! Thank you for sharing.
Mine did not knock – Matt kept them downstairs, fortunately. My teens hide from me too – sometimes I forget my son is home!
A beautiful tribute to how taking care of ourselves changes over time but is always important even if it means locking ourself in the bathroom!
You gotta do what you gotta do, right?
I’m not much of a poetry person, but that was beautiful!
Thank you, Catherine! I wrote it during a writing group, and it’s barely poetry.. but it was good to try something different.
Yes, lovely. SO many stages of getting away. And refilling ourselves.
Thanks Mardra!
Bathrooms. Does any other room in the average home have anywhere near the power and authority of a bathroom. And, even better, right to invoke this power is ‘being in the bathroom’. It’s surely the Switzerland of the interior of most modern homes.
The only door, other than exterior doors, where the use of the lock will not raise eyebrows.
I think you’re on to something here!
We don’t even have locks on our bathroom doors! But even my children know to knock before entering…for their sake as much as the person in there.
That bathroom trick so does not work in my house 🙂
I’m sorry Vickie! I hope you do find moments here and there to get away.
So glad you found this poem and used it for Finish the Sentence. I remember the younger days when 15 minutes in the bathroom was a whole vacation. I don’t need that any longer here, either. Sigh.
I know…it’s kinda bittersweet. We needed that time because we were with our kid all. the. time. And now I’m so happy to see them, every time.
Total tug of war for sure. I mean my girls are still on the younger side. But as they are growing up I most definitely see a change in the way we need and react to each other. Oh the hiding out in the bathroom definitely has ceased here. But again how I very vividly recall those days and times still, too!
Glad to hear you don’t have to hide away:)
Yeah I feel this. It’s like one day it’s there you need to be alone so bad and the one day you’re having separation anxiety and you still have years to go. The tug of war with the heart and being parents!
So true! I know my take on the prompt was weak at best…I just wanted to participate, and this piece had been sitting unseen for so long.